Scene of the Crime
by x-LittleMissAlice-x
Summary: Tohru Adachi thought the best presents of all were the ones wrapped in yellow CAUTION: DO NOT ENTER ribbons. Oneshot. Tohru Adachi introspect.


**Summary:** Tohru Adachi thought the best presents of all were the ones wrapped in yellow CAUTION: DO NOT ENTER ribbons. Oneshot. Tohru Adachi introspect.

 **Author's Note:** A character analysis of Tohru Adachi I created some time ago. Enjoy.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the Persona series.

 **Warning:** P4: Golden spoilers. Also graphic imagery, vulgar language, and twisted mindset. You have been warned.

* * *

 _ **Scene of the Crime**_

 **Created By: x-LittleMissAlice-x**

 **xXx**

 _"There will be time, there will be time_

 _To prepare a new face, to meet the faces that you will meet;_

 _There will be time to murder and create,_

 _And time yet for a hundred indecisions,_

 _And for a hundred visions and revisions,_

 _Before the taking of a toast and tea..."_

 _T.S. Eliot_

 **xXx**

Tohru Adachi thought the best presents of all were the ones beautifully wrapped in bright yellow _CAUTION: DO NOT ENTER_ ribbons.

It always made his heart race, slipping under the strips of police tape to see what sinful goodie awaited him inside... Like an impatient child shaking the contents of a new shiny box, he would attempt to guess what he would find ahead, long before he arrived at the scene of the crime.

His dark eyes would shift, scanning everything in sight: the broken shards of glass scattered upon the concrete, circled in white chalk; little yellow numbers marking the remains of light footprints outlined in the dirt; and above all else, the artistic splatters of red, decorating the ground.

Inhaling deeply through his nostrils, he would sniff the air for any traces of the sweet metallic scent of gunpowder or blood, and when he caught even a whiff or hint of its presence, his body would shiver in excitement.

It took everything inside him not to break down laughing; to allow a lapse in his mask, a crack within the facade of an air-headed sidekick detective for just a moment, and slip a crooked grin or low giggle.

Murder, theft, harassment- it was so easy to see the darkness of the culprit's heart at just a single scene. But more than that, there was always this sense of… _despair_ in the victim (if they survived) or their families. Just watching it, so evident and apparent in their tear-filled eyes, on their _stupid_ little faces firsthand, was enough to make Adachi's entire day- no, his entire _existence_.

Tohru Adachi loved watching it all unfold- _lived_ for it! He lived for the chaos, the horror, the doubt, the _fear..._

Those things were so much more interesting than the bland, peaceful Inaba everyone seemed to take for granted.

They didn't know what they were missing. No one did. Not the citizens of Inaba, or the officers. They didn't realize - or _appreciate,_ for that matter - that shades of blood were always different, just as every crime scene was different. It was for precisely that reason seeing it all was so enticing...

But that was the difference between the perks of the big city, and living on the countryside, he supposed.

It had been mildly entertaining - for a while, anyway - watching the police force squirm more and more with each news report aired on TV, for the entire town to see. Every piece of evidence that couldn't be traced to a suspect, and each interrogation that reached an inevitable dead end always ramped up the pressure. It was fun, watching them all scramble like _fools_ , even when the answer was so damn _obvious._

But eventually (mostly thanks to a certain 'Genius Boy Detective'), all of the interesting cases were solved, leaving Adachi back to his boring regimen of brewing shitty coffee and tediously filing paperwork like Dojima's personal lap dog.

Perhaps it was because of that mundane lifestyle, that monotonous never ending cycle, Adachi had been given the power to create some entertainment of his own.

 **xXx**

"W-what the hell...?"

The usual gruff and collected tone of his boss – the asshole himself, _the_ Ryoutaro Dojima – wavered. The lit cigarette, pressed firmly to his lips only moments ago, slipped through his fingers, hot red ashes speckling the cold, damp ground.

He stared. Dojima stared at his involuntary creation, stared at that gold-digging TV reporter, the notorious Mayumi Yamano herself, hanging from a group of television antennas.

It had been a happy accident. He hadn't intended for her to die (this way, anyway), but he wanted to laugh. _God,_ he wanted to laugh, so _damn_ hard he couldn't breathe anymore.

 _Would you believe me if I told you I was responsible for this, Dojima-san? Would you be surprised if I told you this happened because I had pushed her into a TV, of all things? Would you be angry if I had wrapped my gloved fingers around her neck, if I had raped that_ whore _until she stopped breathing, like I originally intended? Or do you prefer her battered corpse hanging there, for the world to see?_

 _Tell me! If you knew the truth, would you knock me to the ground and call me a piece of shit? I dare you, do it, Dojima-san! I want to see it! I want to see the despair on your face when you realize the truth!_

He couldn't take it. His legs stumbled as he ran, hand desperately clamped over his mouth to stop himself from laughing, from giving himself away too soon.

"Adachi! How long are you going to act like a rookie? You want to be sent back to central office!?" he heard Dojima call after him, forcing his voice to be strong, authoritative, and it made the laughter build inside him all the more.

 _You are an idiot... You are so fucking stupid Dojima-san! It's me! It's me, it's me, it's me! I did it! I am the reason she's dead! Hahaha!_

 _Not yet._ Adachi needed more. He needed more of this entertainment.

"I'm sorry, Dojima-san..." The words that escaped him quaked, but his mind steadily reeled. Already, he was plotting – plotting a most interesting game…

A game that would involve presents wrapped in yellow DO NOT ENTER ribbons; a confusing maze crafted by pools, by various shades of crimson; a psychological mindfuck that would leave even the best aspiring detectives dubious, providing Adachi years of entertainment to do as he pleased.

Before, he didn't consider himself a person born with natural talent. But now, with his new power, he was capable of anything. He would be uncatchable - _unstoppable._ He would commit the perfect crime...

"Who do you think could have done something like this, Adachi?" Dojima asked.

"Undoubtedly, Dojima-san," Adachi began, hiding a crooked smile behind his hand, "A real fucked up psychopath."

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 _Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this piece, feel free to leave a review._

 _That's all then. Have a lovely evening._

 _xLMAx_


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